I hated the shiver that ran through me, hated the heat blooming beneath my skin. This was calculated,another interrogation technique, another form of control. Yet my body responded to his proximity with a primitive recognition that terrified me more than his violence did.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against my mouth. For one bewildering moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. My lips parted involuntarily. I knew it was a crazy reaction, yet I had no hold over it. Despitejustmeeting him, I felt a pull so magnetic that it clouded my judgment. He was a broken piece in their system; I wanted to fix him.
He didn’t kiss me though. Instead, his hand slid to my throat, gripping. Not enough to cut off air, just enough to remind me who controlled my next breath.
“Why did you ask my name?” His eyes bored into mine, searching for answers. “Why was I sent to kill you? What do you know?”
I swallowed against his palm. “I was testing a theory.”
“What theory?” His grip tightened fractionally.
“That’s not how this works. You are not the only one who can ask questions.” I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, quickly darting my gaze away from those intense eyes. I was melting under his gaze; I could barely stand it.
His body tensed suddenly, head turning slightly toward the window. I didn’t hear anything, but his expression shifted into tactical awareness. Reaper’s head tilted slightly, his attention shifting from me to something I couldn’t detect. His posture changed, almost imperceptibly—from predatory to alert.
“How many people know you’re here?” he asked.
“I…don’t know,” I answered automatically. I wanted to tell himno one,but if I was to trust my contact, that wasn’t the truth. They had taken a while, and I was hoping that it’d be just a false alarm, but now that I stared at Reaper’s face…I wasn’t so sure that was the truth anymore.
His eyes narrowed. “Then we have company.”
He moved silently to the window, staying to the side of the frame as he peered through a gap in the curtains. I remained frozen against the wall, afraid to move.
“Local idiots,” he said, his tone clinical. “Three at the stairs. Two more approaching from the east lot. Coordinated movement pattern suggests they’ve been watching this room.”
“Watching me,” I realized. The men I’d noticed earlier when I checked in—the ones lounging by the vending machines, eyes tracking me as I carried my bag upstairs. “They’re armed,” Reaper continued, as if discussing the weather. “Primitive, but effective. Machetes. At least one firearm.”
Terror struck fresh—trapped between an assassin and violent criminals. The perfect lose, lose scenario.
Reaper’s entire demeanor changed, his focus splitting between me and the approaching threat.
“Testing your theory will get you killed, one way or another,” he said, his attention returning fully to me. My mouth gaped open, but I couldn’t say any words stuck in the back of my throat.
“You have a choice.” His voice went flat, clinical again. “Die by my hand—quick, painless.” He pressed slightly onmy throat to emphasize the point. “Or die by theirs. I’ve seen what local gangs do to women they catch alone. Your death would be neither quick nor painless.” He leaned closer, lips nearly brushing my ear. “What’s it going to be?”
I met his gaze, searching for any hint of humanity behind those cold blue eyes. “Those are my only options? Death by your hand or theirs?”
“Unless you have a better offer.”
My mind raced through possibilities, discarding each as quickly as they formed. His cold blue eyes watched, calculating, waiting for my decision.
But there was a third option. I’d seen something in him. A hesitation. A fracture in whatever programming they’d installed. I’d struck a nerve with my questions about his name, his past killings. Small cracks, but cracks nonetheless.
And now, curiosity. Why didn’t he kill me? What made me different? He wasn’t just askingmethose questions—he was asking himself.
I needed to get out of here alive, and he was my only chance. Not just to escape this room, but to finally get answers. He was the first solid lead I’d had in months. And if I made it out with him, maybe he could help me find my brother, too.
“There’s always a better offer,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You want to know why you hesitated. I want to know why someone wants me dead. We both have questions only the other can answer.”
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed to lock further onto mine, almost as if he was telling me he was listening.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I continued quickly. “You get me out of here alive, away from whoever’s coming, and I’ll tell you everything I know. Then you decide if you still want to kill me.”
He stared at me, unblinking. “You have nothing to trade.”
“I made you hesitate twice,” I countered. “That’s never happened before, right? Don’t you want to know why?”
Something flickered in his eyes—that same crack in the perfect operative I’d glimpsed before. I pushed harder.
